In today’s fast-paced world, it often feels like every second counts. We find ourselves constantly checking off tasks, glued to our screens, or racing to the next obligation. For two chaotic years, this was my reality. I was ensnared by notifications, alert tones, and an overstuffed calendar. Even though I yearned to keep up with my packed schedule, I often fell short.
Six years ago, I was gifted with a wonderfully relaxed child, a soul who embodied the phrase “stop and smell the roses.” When I needed to leave, she would take her time choosing a purse or a sparkly tiara. When I was running late, she insisted on fastening her stuffed animal into the car seat. A quick lunch run turned into a heartwarming chat with an elderly woman at Subway, and my planned exercise sessions were interrupted by her desire to pet every dog we passed. Even when I had a fully booked agenda starting at dawn, she asked to gently crack and stir the eggs.
While my easygoing daughter was a beautiful contrast to my driven nature, I failed to appreciate her gift. Caught in the whirlwind of distractions, I only saw what lay ahead, dismissing anything that didn’t fit my schedule. Whenever her delightful curiosity slowed us down, I thought, “We can’t waste time on this.” Thus, “Hurry up” became my mantra.
I’d start my sentences with it: “Hurry up, we’re going to be late.” I’d end them with it: “If you don’t hurry up, we’ll miss everything!” My day began and ended with this phrase, as I rushed her through breakfast and bedtimes. Unfortunately, my constant urging did nothing to hasten her pace, and I probably uttered “hurry up” more often than “I love you.”
But one pivotal day changed everything. After picking up my older daughter from school, she remarked, “You are so slow” to her younger sister, who was lagging behind. In that moment, I saw a reflection of myself—a parent who pressures a child simply trying to embrace life’s moments. It was a painful realization.
With a shaky voice, I turned to my little one and said, “I’m truly sorry for making you hurry. I admire how you take your time, and I want to learn from you.” My daughters looked surprised by my admission, but the younger one beamed with acceptance. I promised to be more patient, and as I hugged her, I knew I needed to change.
Eliminating “hurry up” from my vocabulary was easy, but cultivating patience proved to be more challenging. To accommodate her leisurely pace, I started giving her more time to prepare before outings. Sometimes, we were still late, but I reminded myself that these moments were fleeting while she’s young.
As we strolled or shopped together, I allowed her to set the pace. When she stopped to admire something, I pushed my own agenda aside and observed her wonder. I noticed her expressions, the dimples in her hands, and how her eyes crinkled with joy. I watched her connect with others and marvel at the world around her. She was a true “Noticer,” and I learned that these individuals are rare treasures. It dawned on me that she was a gift to my hurried soul.
Nearly three years have passed since I made my commitment to slow down and focus on what truly matters in life. It’s still a conscious effort, but my younger daughter serves as a constant reminder. Just the other day, we took a bike ride to a sno-cone stand during vacation. After she got her treat, she glanced at me with worry in her eyes and asked, “Do I have to rush, Mama?”
My heart sank. I realized the impact of my hurried life. I had a choice: dwell on the times I rushed her or celebrate that I was committed to doing things differently now. I chose the latter. “You don’t have to rush. Just take your time,” I said gently, watching her face light up with relief.
Together, we sat and shared simple moments, engaging in conversations about the whimsical thoughts of a six-year-old. There were even silences filled with smiles as we embraced the beauty around us. As she neared the end of her sno-cone, she proudly offered me the last spoonful. “I saved the last bite for you, Mama,” she said.
In that moment, I realized I had struck gold. By giving her the gift of time, she returned it with sweetness and reminded me that life—and love—are more fulfilling when we aren’t rushing through it. Whether it’s enjoying a snack, picking flowers, buckling a seatbelt, or exploring nature, I refuse to say, “We don’t have time for this.” That translates to saying, “We don’t have time to live.”
Taking a pause to relish life’s simple joys is truly the essence of living. Trust me, I learned this lesson from my little expert on joyful living.
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Summary:
This article explores the transformative journey of a mother who learned to embrace a slower pace of life through her carefree child. After realizing the negative impact of her hurried lifestyle, she vowed to say “hurry up” less and appreciate the beauty of everyday moments. This shift not only strengthened her bond with her children but also taught her the joy of living in the present.
